


Sour in the Sun

by coricomile



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6272308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The room was spinning, but Lip was sanctuary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sour in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



> For merle_p: I think I accidentally wrote a love letter to weed, signed and sealed from the Gallagher boys. Uh. Whoops? Hopefully you enjoy

The first time Ian smoked a joint, he'd been thirteen. Lip had handed it over on Ian's birthday, the two of them hidden away under the tracks of the el. He'd coughed so hard he'd nearly puked, tears gathering in his eyes and bile rising up in his throat. The head rush that came over him as soon as he took in a normal breath was almost suffocating. Lip finished off the joint by himself, laughing at Ian's stunned face. 

Fiona wasn't happy about it when she caught them sneaking back in, stinking of dirt weed and mud, but she didn't punish them. She'd pulled Lip off to the side, scolded him or something, but Lip had come back to their room grinning. 

It became their thing. When Carl and Debbie got too much to deal with, Lip would disappear for an hour and drag Ian off to the tracks when he got back. Sometimes the weed was good- citrusy and creeping, the high growing until it was all Ian could do to move his heavy arms- and sometimes it was bad- resin bowls smoked out of a hollowed out Coke bottle that made him gag, the taste of burning sticking to his tongue long after the high worn off- but it was _theirs_ either way. 

When Ian was fourteen, Lip taught him how to roll a joint himself. Lip's fingers were steady and sure as he flattened the rolling paper out on their shared dresser, as he picked stems out and laid the weed in a straight, thick line. Ian had watched Lip lick the edge of the paper, his tongue pink and damp and quick over the edges. Something in his stomach clenched. 

His first attempt wasn't great. It burned unevenly, packed too loose, and they'd had to suck it down quick so they wouldn't waste it. Ian felt sick after, the room spinning and his body heavy. He must have said something, done something, because Lip had curled up on the couch with him and rubbed his stomach until it settled down. 

Lip had been warm and solid behind him, his knees tucked into the backs of Ian's and his breath blowing through the too-long hair at the back of Ian's neck. The room was spinning, but Lip was sanctuary. He always had been. 

In the morning, Lip had given him shit for overdoing it, ruffling his hair and shoving him out of bed. Ian laid on the floor until Lip sat on him, drinking his morning coffee and already bitching about the test he had to take on Monday. The high had faded hours ago, but Lip was still safe. Lip was home in a way their shitty house never had been. 

Ian started fucking Kash at fifteen. He'd never had his moment of gay panic. He'd known for a few years, known that watching Lip get undressed got him hotter than Frank's stash of tit magazines. Liking men was another thing that made him different, made him other, but he was never going to be normal anyway. The army didn't have to know and everyone else could go fuck themselves. 

Kash was funny and bought Ian gifts and talked to him like an adult instead of treating him like a kid. He didn't mind that Ian didn't want to get fucked as long as Ian didn't care about Linda and the kids. Ian liked him, liked being with him and liked sleeping with him and liked the whispered promises of leaving when he was old enough. He didn't believe them, but it was nice to hear anyway.

Kash wasn't home, no matter how hard he tried. Kash wasn't sanctuary and safety and the warm, floating feel of total freedom. 

Ian and Lip still went to the el together. Ian had mastered rolling joints, had mastered packing bowls and gathering kief out of the little eight ball grinder Lip kept in his sock drawer. When they were high, Ian could lay himself over his brother's lap and let the buzz under his skin grow thick and heavy. When they were high, Ian could stare at the familiar curve of Lip's mouth and wonder _what if, what if, what if_.

Kash always busted on him when he came to work high. He made Ian chew gum and spray down with the two-dollar colognes in the back of the store. It rankled on Ian's nerves, but he dutifully washed and brushed and shook off the smell of home and Lip and safety. He thought maybe he loved Kash, in a weird and nebulous way that he'd read about.

He wasn't surprised when Lip found out. Hurt, maybe. Confused. Lip stared at him sometimes, mouth closed tight, eyes narrowed like if he just thought the problem out enough he'd figure out a solution. Ian spent a lot of time at the store, drowning himself in Kash to block out the pain in his chest. 

It took three months for them to go back to the el together. Three sober months spent across the room, silent and farther apart than they'd ever really been. Ian didn't want to smoke alone, and he wasn't going to be the one to break the standoff. He didn't know what made Lip finally hold up a baggie of pre-rolled and jerk his head toward the door. He didn't know and he wouldn't ask.

They had to hunch together to get the joint lit, the strong almost winter wind blowing at them violently. The weed was for shit, foul tasting and quick burning, but the old feeling of sinking into the ground fell over him easily. Ian sank down against the crossbars, ass frozen as soon as it hit the grass, and leaned into Lip's shoulder.

They rode the high together, silent except for the occasional giggle. Ian's head spun with the simple relief of having this back. When he turned his head, Lip was watching him, pupils blown wide and face gone red in the cold. And Ian maybe loved Kash in a movie kind of way, but he definitely loved Lip in a way that made his insides twist and his breath go short.

He leaned in, everything in slow motion. Above them, a train rattled across the tracks. Ian could feel it shaking them, couldn't hear anything but his own blood rushing in his ears and the screech of metal on metal. He put his hand on the frozen slope of Lip's cheek, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

"What are you doing?" Lip asked, breath warm against Ian's face. 

"Just go with it," Ian whispered. He pressed his mouth to Lip's carefully. His skin buzzed, stretched too tight over his body as their lips caught. For a long stretch of time, Lip was still against him, frozen in place like time had stopped. 

And then- and then Lip pulled him closer, fingers curled into Ian's jacket. It wasn't a nice kiss. It was biting and painful and chased away the heady glow of his high, but it was _Lip_. It was Lip and him and their safe space away from the other kids and Frank and _everything_. 

"Okay," Lip said when he pulled back. In the dark all around them, the redness of his mouth was the only thing Ian could see. "Okay." 

Lip pulled another pre-rolled from the baggie, lit it up, and took a long drag. He leaned over and pressed his mouth to Ian's again. The acrid taste of smoke filled Ian's mouth, his eyes watering as he choked down the inhale. It was still dirt weed, still came on in a wave that wasn't pleasant at all, but it tasted sweeter when breathed straight in from Lip. 

This was theirs.


End file.
